


Where Better to Meet

by Alexicon



Series: prompted on tumblr [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:53:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6807676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexicon/pseuds/Alexicon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>...than at a wedding?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where Better to Meet

**Author's Note:**

> [pstgulik](http://pstgulik.tumblr.com) over on tumblr prompted:
>
>> 22, Remus Lupin and Hermione Granger from the Harry Potter series. 
> 
> where 22 = “two miserable people meeting at a wedding au”. Enjoy! ([If you would like to see it on tumblr](http://lexiconallie.tumblr.com/post/144137276263/pstgulik-said-22-remus-lupin-and-hermione)) 

She’d never been to a wedding this big before and she was about ready to scream.

Hermione wasn’t one for big ‘dos, and she’d almost decided not to come to her schoolmate’s brother’s second wedding before her mother had convinced her into it. Hermione had retaliated against allowing herself to be persuaded so easily by picking up a set of robes in the most awful shade of teal one could find on a clearance rack in a feeble stab at petty revenge. She’d regretted that decision almost as soon as she’d cleared the doorway of the shop where she’d bought them, but she’d stuck with it with the dogged kind of tenacity which usually meant she’d brought this whole situation down upon herself.

Thankfully, after what felt like seven years of ridiculously complex vows and affirmations, the service wrapped up fairly quickly. Hermione didn’t have to be in the photos the couple were taking at the front of the hall, so she made a beeline for the buffet table and nearly got into a fistfight with a woman in pink ruffles over a plate of canapés. With three canapés clutched in her hand and two more smuggled under a napkin, Hermione stormed off toward a corner; but she stopped in her tracks when she saw the one person at the party who looked more unhappy than she felt. He was sitting at an empty table, fiddling with his nameplate and avoiding eye contact with, it seemed, the entire room.

He lifted his eyes when she sat down, and then lifted the corners of his mouth into a smile when she dropped the contents of her napkin onto his plate.

“Thank you,” the man said quietly.

Hermione bobbed her head sharply. On a better day, she’d tell him about the potion used to ensure the canapés tasted good, or the spell animating the folded napkins, but she didn’t have the energy today to endure the angry response that, from her experience, was most likely.

“I’m Hermione Granger,” she said, and turned the nameplate down discreetly.

“Not Philharmonia Applebaum, then?” the man said, showing a glimmer of a smile. He’d caught a glimpse of it before she’d put the face down, apparently, or perhaps when he’d sat down.

“No,” Hermione admitted. “I’m not entirely certain where I’m supposed to sit, actually. And I don’t quite want to hunt down my seat with all that mess.” She motioned to the people milling about between tables with a grimace which the man mimicked as he nodded.

“We can fix that,” the man said, and drew his wand from his sleeve like a Muggle magician.

In a few subtle flicks, the nameplate under Hermione’s fingers chilled suddenly. She lifted it and found that her name was written there in the same font which had said ‘Philharmonia Applebaum’ only seconds before.

She whipped her head up fast enough that she could feel her neat bun bounce. “How did you do that?”

“I used a Switching Spell.”

“I _meant_ how did you get around the wards to prevent tampering with the seating chart?” Hermione clarified, exasperated.

“Ah, well. That’s my secret,” the man said. “A magician never reveals his secrets, Miss Granger.”

“Hermione, please. And do magicians reveal their names?” she asked with eyebrows raised.

The man’s lips pursed for a brief moment before he answered. “Remus Lupin.”

“Remus Lupin?” Hermione repeated, surprised. “As in -- ”

“As in the werewolf, yes,” Lupin interrupted tiredly.

“I was going to say ‘as in the writer of the ’94 paper, An Exploration of the Rights of Magical Beings and the Wizarding World’s Views on Such’, but if you’d like to tell me about the lycanthropy you may of course do so,” Hermione replied, rather more tartly than she’d intended.

Lupin appeared to be at a loss for words. “Ah. Yes. That was me. I wasn’t aware many people had read that.”

“Everyone in my office has,” Hermione informed him. “It was a marvelous find, I found it in the archives a year ago and of course _everyone_ had to read it. Your use of language is wonderful, it really made it an enjoyable read for everyone, and you make your points beautifully.”

“Thank you,” Lupin said, tone only just short of questioning.

She replied, “You’re welcome,” this time, choosing to ignore the doubt in his voice.

Remus Lupin was as pleasant a conversationalist as she’d always secretly imagined. She hoped he felt the same; he did seem to be very interested by their discussions, judging by the liveliness of his face as they spoke.

He had a lecturer’s flair with demonstrative hand gestures, and Hermione was just as fascinated by his scarred hands as she was with the content of their conversation. She suddenly realized, with a flash of discomfort, that she wouldn’t have met him if she hadn’t come to this wretched wedding. Hermione’d have to thank her mother for this later.

Hermione was happy she’d met him. And she wanted to meet him again.

She would have to arrange that.

They were talking now about the Hogwarts Express and its enchantments, and how much more comfortable transport might be if they began with methods of transportation already in use and built from there. Both avoided any mention of the laws in their way and merely discussed the spellwork which would be involved. (They also avoided talking about the friends they may know who had done experimental spellwork on, say, Muggle cars, for which Hermione was grateful.) Then she saw her opening and took it.

“I was researching that just the other day,” Hermione told him smoothly. “Would you like to see my notes? They’re at my flat, but I’m sure no one would mind if we left now.”

Remus (as he’d instructed her to call him) raised his eyebrows, clearly wondering if this was a rather subtle invitation to _see her etchings_ , as it were. It was, of course; although she would be delighted to show him her notes on magical forms of travel if he expressed an interest. She lowered her lashes for a moment to assure him of her intentions, and knew he’d received the message when his smile turned sly.

“I would love to, Hermione,” he said amiably, and Hermione laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lexiconallie.tumblr.com)!
> 
> (PS, if you were curious, I have in mind that the wedding is Charlie Weasley and Tonks getting married. You of course may imagine anyone in their place, as I left it open to interpretation.)


End file.
